World in My Home , livre ebook

The World in My Home
P. C. Das
Austin Macauley Publishers
2019-08-30
The World in My Home About the Author About the Book Dedication Copyright Information © Acknowledgement Part I An Auto with a Motto Foreword Life Is a Game, Play It Well To the Earth Part II The Days and Dreams Of A Projection of Life A Raped Woman A Queer Experience A Reversed Art Adolescent Curiosity The Confessions An Ill-fated Woman A Lighter Tricks of an Engineer The Right Prescription The Weapon of Self-Protection An Involuntary Euthanasia A Dreamland in Superconsciousness
About the Author
Dr P. C. Das is one of the trend-setting authors in the field of modern English for the last three decades. He has authored some remarkable titles on English grammar, spoken English, letter writing, etc. He is also a lexicographer of English and a biographer.
About the Book
Here is a sincere picture to capture the moment and the milieu!
How small is a creature in nature! But being in the rhythm of life, he or she is greater than a huge mass of rock. Life is precious. But most of us are not aware of it.
The days I have passed, the portraits I have enjoyed, the pains I have suffered, are these the possessions of only mine? Are these to be kept in a secret hole like a miser? Or is there any utility to place them on others’ tables?
Sometimes I humbly presume it’s a panorama of personal experiences that can link the past and the present or the future through which a shadow, quickly vanishing and growing again for reformation, is reflected in the background of our society at large.
Now we see sex and violence are increasing as if in ratio of global warming and social pollution. And time is fleeting to the eternity without caring for anybody or anything.
In this context, if someone keeps the ‘personal’ aside and enjoys the scenario, it may carry some meanings to him, sharing human experiences and breaking the barriers between different races, religions, socio-political and socio-economic spheres and ethnicities.
Dedication
To all the book-loving readers in the world.
Copyright Information ©
P. C. Das (2019)
The right of P. C. Das to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with section 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publishers.
Any person who commits any unauthorised act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.
A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.
ISBN 9781528959117 (ePub e-book)
www.austinmacauley.com
First Published (2019)
Austin Macauley Publishers Ltd
25 Canada Square
Canary Wharf
London
E14 5LQ
Acknowledgement
I acknowledge the happy memories of my parents and teachers from the school level to the university level.
I also pay my homage and greetings to my friends in different countries in the world, especially, Dr. Hindmarsh, the ex-director of Institute of English, Kolkata in India.
And finally, I express my heartiest thanks to Austin Macauley for their sincere efforts for the publication of The World in My Home .
P. C. Das
Part I

An Auto with a Motto
Introspection
Look into your holes, and try to fill up them every morning with an introspection!
And think
Every sunrise is a new birth! Call upon your sleeping soul, and see how it awakes!
F orew ord
Here is a sincere picture to capture the moment, and the milieu!
How small is a creature in Nature! But being in the rhythm of life, he or she is greater than a huge mass of rock. Life is precious. But most of us are not aware of it.
The days I have passed, the portraits I have enjoyed, the pains I have suffered—are these the possessions of only mine? Are these to be kept in a secret hole like a miser? Or, is there any utility to place them on others’ tables?
Sometimes, I humbly presume—it’s a panorama of personal experiences that can link the past and the present, or the future through which a shadow, quickly vanishing and growing again for reformation, is reflected in the back-ground of our society at large.
Now we see—sex and violence are increasing as if in ratio of global warming and social pollution. And Time is fleeting to the Eternity without caring for anybody, or anything.
In this context, if someone keeps the ‘personal’ aside and enjoys the scenario, it may carry some meanings to him, sharing human experiences and breaking the barriers between different races, religions, socio-political and socio-economic spheres and ethnicities.
The Part 2 of this book contains some stories.
Here we can take another view of the passing time. We say—time passes and we stay. Ah, no! Time stays and we pass away. In fact, the infinite time has neither the beginning nor the end; and we are being cooked in the limitless cauldron of time. And in that cauldron Aparesh is a third person who takes the heat and talks something to express his experiences, visions and missions in a narrative form—where one is not ruined by the friction of life, but regains the vitality from within to develop its thorns and flowers too. You may call it an auto with a motto. If you wish, you can find the real jewels, not in mines, but in minds, in the midst of your own life.
Now judge and enjoy if you like!
Life Is a Game, Play It Well
Who knows how many hours you will enjoy your life! And so take all such things that catch your eyes and touch your mind.
Aparesh looks behind.
A magical illusion of the mellowing twilight mingling into the darkness of the dusk is descending on the earth. The birds are returning to their nests after their whole day’s journey in the backdrop of the fading skyline.
And here at home Aparesh uncovers the grand old piano once again. His fading memories of the bygone days are lying silently in the holes below the keys. Whenever his finger tip plays on this or that key, a sad or joyful tune comes out all of a sudden.
In this world Aparesh bears his name as if a bottle with a label. If it is vitamin, you can take it; if it is phenyl, you can use it to clean the floor of your home. Or, you may take it as a kaleidoscope.
He utters, “I sometimes realize that there is something within me that is greater than ‘I’ and wonder what is that mysterious force that plays with me!”
Aparesh is now in ripe old age. He has left so many springs and autumns in his life and collected some pebbles to build a structure of memories with black and white stones studded with pebbles of various colours—blue, green, red or sapphire. On one of such pebbles he found some notable scribblings—life is not merely a bundle of duties; it is a dish to taste—to taste its sweet and bitter fruits; rather a process to make bitter things sweet. It is as if a layer of deep water as a play-field of an oyster with a valuable stone in its womb, as though, the sparks of light come from the darkness within.
One day Aparesh thought and thought how many blunders he had made! Just a push on the button of the time machine—a flash—a series of blunders and puzzles stood in line face to face!
And it is curious enough that sometimes the blunders turn to bliss, carrying a lesson while passing time in course of one’s life. Aparesh is now ten and he studies in standard V. He lives in a lonely cottage with his mother. His father is a retired teacher and he is away from home. A lonely noon! Maybe it’s a Sunday. Aparesh has come out for a short strolling. Isn’t it a shrill cry of his friend? What’s the matter? The boy has lost a costly pen, and his father is beating him hard. Aparesh passed by the pitiful spot, and entered a neighbour’s home. Lo! The nice pen was lying on the desk of the naughty boy of the neighbourhood, and there was none nearby. Aparesh stole the stolen pen. He went to his friend’s house, and put the pen in the owner’s bag unnoticed. What a joy!
***
A village fair, a rosy afternoon and a boy of eight was plodding on the path through the ploughed fields to the fair ground. He entered the crowd, got attracted by so many new playthings on the stalls, and he stood before a small stall to buy a ball. It was a small rubber ball. The shop-keeper demanded half a rupee, but Aparesh had only four annas. How could he get the ball? He stole the ball, and though childish, he was glad to be a thief. What is it? Is he a thief, or a king who has conquered a kingdom? A king has no guilty-conscience, and a boy of eight who has pocketed a ball has no guilty-conscience. He possessed what he had wanted. How would you deal the dish? Is it bitter? Is it sweet? Aparesh hunts the haunted house in his old age, and gets no answer.
Life is life. It rolls on, and it cannot always keep the balance on the scale of blind justice.
Is this a bliss, or a blunder?
Now in his old age, he remembers a story of a thief, and a king.
One day a gang of four thieves were caught red-handed while they were engaged in burglary. The policemen brought them to the king for right punishment. Hearing all from the policemen, the king called the minister, and the judge for a prudent judgement. Finally, when the verdict was passed for the death sentence, the king called the slaughterer of the royal court and said, “Take these four burglars to the killing-field out of the city, and kill them by putting on the killing-rod.”
According to the king’s order, the killer-man killed three of the four thieves. When it was the turn of the fourth man, he thought:
“Even at the impending death, one should think of a way of escaping from that. One can be saved if it is successful, if not, what’s more than death? So, I should do something to return from the jaws of death.” He said to the killer-man, “Oh, you’ve killed three thieves by the order of the King. Now bring me